Interference
by alisajudd
Summary: Hermione's job means she has to start checking Malfoy Manor for Dark objects. She expects it to be deserted - and she's wrong. But there's something not quite right about Draco Malfoy. Something has changed with him since she last saw him 5 years ago. Will she be the last person to figure it out? And will it be too late for her?
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, I know I just started another story, but I really like the plan for this one.. If it goes well I think it might be my favourite.. So I'll try and keep both updated as much as possible! (But I can't promise anything - depends on my creativity!)**

"I'll go," Hermione volunteered.

The entire office fell silent as her co-workers turned to stare at her incredulously.

"But Hermione, I know you've had bad experiences there -" started Susan Bones nervously.

Hermione was worried deep down too, but she brushed it aside. What kind of employee would she be if she never took any risks?

"I am more than capable of overcoming any past experiences, but thank you for your concern, Susan," she added with a warm smile. Susan nodded.

Nobody in the new Department of Dark and Dangerous Artifacts had wanted to take the long put-off visit to Malfoy Manor. In fact, they'd spent the last thirty minutes arguing about who wasn't going. Their department had been created in the aftermath of the war, designed to take on the huge job of scouring the homes of Dark families and getting rid of their dangerous Dark objects. It wasn't always safe - Ernie MacMillan had lost an arm to a snapping wardrobe in the Nott Manor, and they had all suffered minor cuts and bruises. But the fact they always had to be on their toes gave Hermione the fulfillment she needed from a job.

"Well, the initial search will take me quite some time - at least two weeks to take an itinerary of all possibly dangerous items. I imagine I will come back with quite a list," she smiled, and everyone at the table laughed.

Hermione was never quite sure if her jokes were really funny any more. Her (unwanted) celebrity status meant that people tended to laugh raucously at her jokes, even if she knew that they weren't actually funny. It was tiresome, and made her feel like all her conversations were false.

"Has everybody got two weeks' worth of work to complete?" she asked. She was Head of Department, after all.

Everyone nodded glumly; while the exciting part of the job involved destroying magical artifacts, the amount of paperwork that came with it came second to no other department. She imagined she could go away for a month and they still wouldn't have finished all their paperwork.

"I will likely pop into the office every few days to see how everyone is getting on," Hermione continued, "but don't count on it. If you need me, just send me an owl."

"Are you really sure you want to do this, Hermione?" asked Katie Bell, concern on her face. "I will volunteer if you really don't want to..."

"Thank you, Katie," said Hermione with another warm smile. "I'm sure I'll be ok, though. If not someone else can take over."

Katie nodded, returning her smile just as Susan had. While Hermione had perfected her smile, she certainly didn't mean it. She was sick to death of people dancing around her like she would explode and have a mental breakdown at any moment. She wasn't as fragile as people thought she was; surely she had proved that already?

The meeting ended and everyone went back to their respective offices and desks. Hermione sat back in her chair and ran her hands down her face. Why had she volunteered?

She supposed, as Head of Department, she had assumed that it was her responsibility. After all, her workers had just spent half an hour arguing about who didn't want to go, each refusing responsibility. Katie's offer to replace her wasn't truly heartfelt; Hermione knew she didn't want to go.

She dreaded to think what memories the Manor would bring back to her. The minutes that felt like hours squirming on the carpet under Bellatrix Lestrange's curses. Dobby saving their lives and losing his own. Lucius Malfoy's hissing voice suggesting he fetch Voldemort.

Shuddering, Hermione began to collect the necessary papers she would need for the first day of initial searching.

Hermione did not sleep well that night. Images of Bellatrix Lestrange's face plagued her dreams, and when she awoke she was clutching at the scar on her forearm that still read "Mudblood" as clearly as if she'd just written it. She had not had one of these nightmares for a long time.

Harry and Ron dropped by the next morning on their way to work. Hermione had been sitting on the kitchen counter eating a slice of toast when they appeared suddenly in her fireplace. Her hand flew to her chest in shock and she nearly dropped her piece of toast.

"Jesus, you two, you could give me a little warning next-" she began, but she was cut off angrily by Ron.

"Why the hell are you going back to Malfoy Manor, Hermione? Were you ever going to tell us? All the things that happened there... And nobody knows where Malfoy is! You could get hurt."

Taken aback by his outburst, she glanced at Harry. He looked awkward, as if he didn't know whose side to take. She narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know she wasn't happy, and he looked away sheepishly.

"Firstly, Ronald," she said, her voice laced with venom. "I wasn't going to tell you because it's none of your business. I don't normally talk to you about my work and you don't talk to me about yours. This is my job, and I'll be damned if you walk in here thinking you can get angry at me for that."

Ron spluttered, his ears turning red. He marched forward across her kitchen and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Come on, Hermione, you know I don't like your job," he said pleadingly. "Just give it up and work somewhere safe, like in another department. An office job... Then I know you'll be safe."

Disgusted, Hermione tried to release her arm from his iron grip. "How dare you? I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!"

"I won't let you go. Come back and stay with me like I asked you before -"

Snatching her hand back from his, she raised it and slapped him across the face before he could so much as blink. He stumbled backwards as she dropped down from the counter.

"Where do you get the nerve to say such things?" she hissed angrily. "I don't love you, Ron, and you know that. I don't want to live with you, I don't want to marry you, I don't want anything to do with you except your friendship! When are you going to get that into your head?"

Ron's face was redder than a tomato, but she couldn't tell if he was angry or embarrassed - or both. Despite his puppy dog look, she continued her rage.

"You have absolutely zero say in my life, Ronald. Stop acting like my father or my husband and just act like a concerned friend. I'm sure Harry has something to say about the situation but he isn't barging in here like he owns me!"

Harry stepped forward and pulled Ron away from Hermione.

"I can't believe you just did that, Ron," he said quietly. "What she's saying might be harsh, but she's right."

"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione cried, exasperated. "I've told you _so many times_, Ron. It's been 5 years. Please get it into your head," she added in a begging tone.

Ron had never gotten it into his head that Hermione didn't love him. When she tried to make a go of things with him, it hadn't worked out from the start. They say that after the "honeymoon period" a relationship begins to go downhill - and sometimes ends when it no longer resembles a relationship. But for Hermione, their relationship was at that end point from the start.

Ron took her out to important Ministry dinners and War Hero parties and put her on his arm like a trophy. At home, he expected her to do the cooking and cleaning like Mrs Weasley, and thought that she should have sex with him whenever he wanted her to. It wasn't a relationship to her - it was like slavery.

Just a month after the final battle, she bought her own flat and moved out for good.

But 5 years later Ron had still not gotten over her. He couldn't see that he was stifling her, pushing her away with his demands and his over-protectiveness. Of course, Harry was over-protective, but in the best-friend way that he had been all through school. She missed their dynamic.

"Please leave, Ron," Hermione asked quietly when he did not reply. "Harry, you can stay and give me your opinion if you want to."

When Ron didn't move, Harry began to drag his arm towards the fireplace.

"Come on, Ron, things are getting heated enough already. You've got to stop this, mate," he said worriedly. Ron was becoming near obsessive, and he had to listen to his rants all the time in the Auror office.

Ron made to argue back, but Harry pushed him into the fireplace and he spun away. When he turned back around, Hermione's shoulders were sagged and her hands covered her face. He walked straight over to her and wrapped his arms around her.

Moving her hands from her face to around Harry's ribs, Hermione sighed.

"I don't know what to do any more, Harry," she muttered sadly. "I've tried being nice, I've tried being harsh, I've tried ignoring him... Nothing works."

"I know," he said comfortingly. "Maybe if I get Ginny to have another word with him... That seemed to work for a little while last time..."

Harry had asked his wife to sort out her older brother a couple of years ago. He didn't know what she said to him, but he avoided Hermione for two months. Eventually, though, he came back. He was normal for a while, just like when they were at Hogwarts. But then his jealousy came back when Hermione offered to take her friend Oliver Wood to a Muggle cinema, as he'd never been before.

"You can try," she sighed. "Really though, Harry, I will be fine at Malfoy Manor. No-one even lives there any more, or if they do, they're very quiet. You know I don't take risks that I haven't weighed up first."

Harry released her. "I know, Hermione. While I don't like the idea, I don't have a problem with it. I wouldn't personally go back, but it's your job and your choice. Just promise me you'll let me know if anything happens."

"Of course I will, Harry!" Hermione promised. "You know I would."

"Good," said Harry firmly, his green eyes stern behind his glasses. He glanced at his watch. "Oh crap. I have to get to work, Hermione. I'll have a word with Ginny for you. See you later!"

Hermione barely had time to wave goodbye as he dived into her fireplace. She had the Floo open to three other places; the Weasleys, the Potters and her office. But she had been debating for some time shutting off the Floo to the Weasleys. However she looked at it, though, Ron would still find a way back in. He'd just Floo to Harry's and then to hers.

Sighing, she left her flat with her briefcase and Apparated.

Malfoy Manor had really fallen into disrepair. The large gates left orange rust marks on her hands, and as she walked up the path the grass each side reached her shoulders. It was a little unnerving.

The front doors were damp and she rang the heavy doorbell just in case anyone was still there. After a minute with no response, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

A musty, disused smell hit her nostrils and she coughed a little at the sudden odour. She guessed nobody had lived here for years. Dust was piled high on the vases and statues littering the entrance hall, and she could barely see the occupants of any of the portraits - although that was probably a good thing, she told herself. They wouldn't be too pleased to see a Mudblood back in their precious Manor.

"Hello?" she called tentatively, and cringed a little as her voice came echoing back to her.

Where the hell did she start?

A floor plan of the Manor in her hand, she decided to make a start in the main lounge to her left. It too was covered in dust, and when she walked in she shivered. This place was creepier than it had ever been.

Lucius was imprisoned and Narcissa was dead. She had been killed by rogue Death Eaters, who had at first evaded capture, for helping Harry in the clearing. Hermione's respect for the woman had grown immensely, and she had even attended the funeral. Draco Malfoy, she had noticed, was not there.

Trying to ignore the shivers that kept travelling down her spine, and the fear of being alone in the large Manor, she began to mutter her complex spells. Immediately she found a Dark object, a bracelet inside a chest of drawers, and wrote it down as well as marking it on her floor plan. There were only two more objects in this room, and Hermione imagined this was because of the amount of use the room was previously put to; their Darker objects were probably hidden away deep in the Manor.

It had been over three hours, and when she was just about finished in the lounge, a loud squeak startled her. A large rat scampered across her heeled feet, and she screamed loudly and stumbled backwards.

Unmistakably, through her echoing scream, Hermione heard the voice.

"What are you doing in my house, Mudblood?"


	2. Chapter 2

She screamed again and turned around, falling back against the arm of a sofa. Her hair had started falling out of her bun, and strands fell across her face.

Standing in the doorway was the man with the icy blond hair and the permanent scowl. He looked exactly the same as he had when she last saw him; time had not changed him at all. In fact, he still looked like an 18-year-old boy. This didn't mean much though; even at 18, he had been strong and had the possibility of being handsome.

Her heart still beating in her chest, Hermione sat back in the chair she had fallen against, her head in her hands for the second time that morning. She was still extremely jumpy after all this time. She didn't think it would ever go away.

A minute passed in deathly silence. Neither of them moved.

"Granger?"

Tentatively, she lowered her hands and looked up at him.

"I asked you what you were doing in my house."

Realising she was crumpling her skirt suit and her blouse, Hermione stood up sharply and attempted to push her hair out of her face.

"I am here on official Ministry business," she began in a business-like tone, although she was extremely uncomfortable. "I'm the Head of the Department of Dark and Dangerous Artifacts and your Manor is well overdue for- "

"Really, Granger," he cut her off loudly, strolling into the room. "I didn't think you could ever get more boring. But perhaps I was wrong."

Hermione's mouth snapped shut. If he was going to be here interfering with her work for two weeks -

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she said. "I'm just trying to do my job."

Draco snatched the quill out of her hand and threw it to the ground. "Well do it somewhere else, then," he sneered in her face.

She was frozen. She couldn't speak. Hermione felt incredibly threatened, and since the incident that happened here 5 years ago she could never stand up for herself any more. A man had once started raving at her in Diagon Alley, about how she brought shame upon Pure-blooded wizards, and she had just stood in shock, unable to move. Harry had to stun the man and pull her away.

"Didn't you hear me, Granger?" his voice was louder, more emotional. "I told you to GET OUT!"

Without even bothering to pick up her quill, Hermione jumped a mile and ran from the room, straight out of the front doors and down through the tall grass. She had never imagined she would come across Draco Malfoy.

He hadn't been seen since the day of the final battle. Many assumed that he was either dead or had settled somewhere abroad, away from all the stigma and hate messages that were sure to follow. But Hermione had certainly not expected him still to be living at Malfoy Manor, especially with it in the state it was in now.

His tall frame had towered over hers, his stormy face threatening. She would have to go back tomorrow; she had a warrant to be in his house and she still had to finish her initial search. But as she Apparated in front of her own front door, Hermione could think of nothing she wanted less.

Harry and Ron - she had to tell them. Nobody had seen Draco for years, and -

Hermione deflated. Draco Malfoy wasn't a wanted man. Nobody had seen him, but then nobody was looking for him either. Telling Harry and Ron would only result in them demanding that she give up her job and do something easier. Well, Ron would say those things. Good God, Ron would probably tie her up and lock her in the attic with his ghoul, telling her that Malfoy couldn't hurt her up there and everything would be fine.

No, she definitely wasn't telling anyone. It would get out and press would be swarming around while she was trying to do her job.

It was only one o'clock in the afternoon, but Hermione couldn't go back today. She hoped that Draco wouldn't be there tomorrow, and that she could do her job in peace.

Boy was she wrong.

She was nervous even as she navigated the long grass of the lawn. Expecting him to jump out at her at any moment, she kept her eyes wide open and searching either side of her.

There wasn't really much point in knocking this time. The door was still open from yesterday, so she stepped inside without any trouble. The silence was thick and pressed heavily on her ears; any noise, including the scratching of her new quill and the click of her shoes, sounded wrong.

Seeing as she'd already done the main lounge, the entrance hall seemed like a good place to start for today. Hermione waited for 5 whole minutes in tense silence to see if Draco would come out to scare her, but with no sound at all she put down he briefcase, raised her wand and began her spells.

"I thought I told you to leave," came a not-too-happy voice.

He'd made her jump again, and her clipboard clattered to the floor.

"Stop that!" she tried to say firmly, but it came out weaker than she'd hoped.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he took her in. Hermione Granger, now 23, in another tight-fitting skirt suit, scared out of her wits every time someone so much as said boo.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded lazily.

"Nothing's the matter," she replied, confused. "I'm just trying to get on with my work. The sooner I can finish, the sooner I can leave."

Sitting down on the staircase, Draco still scowled. Hermione wasn't sure what he was going to do next, so she raised her wand and began chanting. A blue kind of shield was slowly pushing its way across the room; if it found a Dark object, the object would glow a deep red and flash. There didn't appear to be anything in here so far, but the spell was slow and time-consuming. It also tired out Hermione's magic quite quickly, and she knew she would be exhausted at the end of the two weeks. There were over a hundred rooms in this place.

Still stood in the same place over an hour later, Hermione was bored and tired. Her arm hurt from holding up her wand and Draco Malfoy had not moved an inch since he sat down. If she had not seen him sit there, she would have assumed he was a statue. It was kind of scary, and made Hermione nervous. There was definitely something different about him.

And then suddenly, a red flashing light brought her eyes back into focus. Looking up sharply for the source of the Dark magic, she nearly dropped her wand. Draco Malfoy himself was surrounded by a red light. He suddenly jumped up in alarm, moving for the first time.

"What have you done to me?" he shouted. "Take it off! Stop it!"

"Just stay still!" Hermione replied, in shock. "It'll pass over you in a minute!"

Draco looked terrified, and Hermione scribbled down on her notes the results of her spell. Never before had she heard of a person setting it off, even Dark wizards and witches like the Lestranges.

When he had stopped flashing, Hermione simply stared at him as if he were going to explode at any moment. Something must have happened to him for him to set it off. The only person she could think of that might have was Harry before he killed Voldemort, when the Horcrux was inside him. But Draco couldn't be a Voldemort Horcrux... He was alive and Voldemort was truly dead. Had somebody else created one?

"What?" Draco said sharply. "What is it? What have you done?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing... That spell reveals Dark or dangerous objects. I guess you are one... No. Something's really not right here."

A dark look passed across Draco's face and he stood up suddenly.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" he growled. "I've been fine here for five years by myself. I don't need you coming here and meddling!"

"Meddling in what?" Hermione asked suspiciously. When he rolled his eyes and didn't reply, she continued in her business-like tone. "I have a warrant to be here for as long as I need, and I can always get the Auror office involved if you choose not to co-operate."

He laughed. A long, deep, scornful laugh that sounded as if it had not been used for years. It took her by surprise, and she didn't know how to respond.

"Good luck with that, Granger," he spat bitterly, once his laughter had subsided. With that, he stood up and stormed off up the staircase, and didn't bother her for the rest of the day. "Auror office... Ha..."

He was starting to really wind her up with his mysteriousness. When she got home that night after searching two more rooms, it took all her might not to pass out on the sofa. Her stomach was protesting and she couldn't be bothered to cook, so she Flooed round to the Potters in hope that there was some dinner left over.

They were still eating as Hermione landed in the fireplace, and Ginny and Harry looked up in surprise at the arrival. They smiled as they saw her, and Harry returned to feeding his son James.

"Any left for me?" she asked wearily, and Ginny immediately stood up.

"Plenty! You look exhausted, Hermione. Sit down and I'll get you some."

Dropping into a chair, Hermione sighed appreciatively. Her feet were aching, and it was so refreshing to just sit and relax.

"Is everything ok, Hermione? You didn't see anything at work, did you? You can always get someone else to-"

"No, Harry," Hermione cut him off with a tired smile. "I'm just exhausted. You know how tired I get doing initial searches. It's so draining."

Ginny put a full plate in front of Hermione with a sympathetic smile.

"I can always tell when you're doing that," she said, sitting back down. "You always look like you're about to fall asleep at any moment."

Hermione gave a chuckle, and began shovelling the food into her mouth. She knew she must resemble Ron at all mealtimes, but she was simply starving. She hadn't had lunch, scared that Draco would find some way to stop her from getting back in. Tomorrow she would have to take sandwiches.

"Whoa," Harry laughed. "Someone's hungry."

James giggled and wiped mashed potato onto Harry's arm.

"Forgot to have lunch," Hermione said between mouthfuls. "You know how it is," she added to Ginny, who grimaced and nodded in agreement.

"It's really gross and empty in the Manor," she said, not sure why she was lying. "Nobody there. Everything's covered in dust and the grass comes up to here," she pointed.

Ginny gave a shudder. "I'm so glad I never had to go in there. Especially with the Malfoys. Eurgh."

"Lucius got what he deserved," Harry said grimly. Lucius was imprisoned in Azkaban, but the Dementors had performed their Kiss on him, so he was laying in waste without a soul.

Hermione agreed with him. While she took pity on Narcissa, and respected her for saving Harry (even if it was only for her own son), Lucius sparked fiery hate within her. Never had she loathed a man more, even his own son. She would take Draco over Lucius any day.

"I do regret Narcissa's death, though," he added. "I know she only saved me through her mother's instinct, but it just showed what she was really there for. To protect her son."

Hermione hated bringing up Narcissa. It made her truly sad, and she felt her eyes welling up as she thought of Draco alone and angry, dealing with the news of his mother's murder.

Ginny placed a hand over Hermione's and shot Harry a warning glance.

"It's okay, Hermione," she said comfortingly.

Jesus, why was she crying? Hermione shook her head to get rid of her tears, and laughed shakily.

"Just ignore me, you two," she smiled. "I'm so tired I think I'd cry at just about anything right now. I almost wept at how good this food was."

The Potters laughed, and Hermione knew that these were the only people that wouldn't laugh at her jokes when they weren't funny. She didn't want them to get worried about her. She was perfectly fine.

Flicking through the results of her scanning spells when she got home, Hermione couldn't help but get an unnerving feeling in her stomach. There was definitely something wrong with Draco. Why would he come up as a Dark object in her initial searches? He looked terrified too. But she thought he knew something about it; the way he'd suddenly jumped up and run away made her suspicious.

Whatever was going on, she would surely get to the bottom of it at some point either during her initial search or later on in the destroying phase.

Destroying.

It was Hermione's job to destroy all the Dark or dangerous objects she found. Draco Malfoy was a Dark or dangerous object.


	3. Chapter 3

When Hermione came across the Malfoy kitchen the next day she was horrified to discover the remains of 4 house elves, each with its own filthy rag still draped over its bones. She had to sit down for a minute, the smell overwhelming her and tears springing from her eyes.

If Dobby hadn't been freed, this would have been his fate. He had still died, but he had died a happy, heroic and free elf, and she was so glad. She could just imagine these little elves dashing about in the kitchen making the food for the Malfoys' lavish parties, terrified that Lucius would come and strike them for being too slow.

Sometimes she'd sit and wonder what the point in life was. Why did it matter if they existed? They lived a few decades and then died. What was the point? These little elves' lives had been bleak, short and painful. Why did they have to exist if all they would do was suffer? Surely it would have been better for them not to be there at all?

Hermione was confusing herself. Wiping her nose, she pushed herself up, her hands covered in dirt from the floor. She wiped them with a spell, and refusing to work in a room in such a state, she began to mutter some simple cleaning spells. When not all of them worked, she tried some stronger ones. The dust disappeared off all the shelves. The leaves in the fireplace vanished. The remains of the elves were levitated to one corner for now, a blanket covering them. The place already looked more friendly, and she sat at the kitchen table while she performed her searching spells.

There were a number of items in the room, all of which she scribbled down, but she nearly gave herself a heart attack when a red light flashed at the end of the dining table; Draco had been sat there the entire time, hidden in the shadows of the unlit room.

"God, stop creeping around!" she gasped, her heart leaping into her mouth.

"It's my house," he drawled, raising an eyebrow. "I can do as I please."

Hermione knew he had a point with this. "Well, please stop it. I'm just trying to finish this and then I'll be gone."

Draco sighed, and dropped his head onto the table with a heavy thud. His shoulders sagged miserably. Hermione was confused. What was the matter with him? She had just begun to reach out her hand towards him when he spoke, and she snatched it back.

"Why don't you just stay away like I asked, Granger?" came his muffled voice. "It would make things so much easier. I've been here 5 years."

"On - on your own?" she whispered, surprised he seemed to be opening up to her.

"Yes," he said firmly. "I haven't seen anybody in that time."

Hermione felt a surge of pity. Had none of his friends wanted to see him? "Didn't - didn't anyone come and see you?"

He raised his head with another bitter laugh. His bright hair was gel-free and hung in his eyes. "Why would anyone come and see me? Nobody wants me to blacken their name. Anyway, nobody could -"

He cut himself off quickly, realising Hermione was listening to his monologue.

"Nobody could what?" she pressed quietly, not wanting to anger him.

Within a second, he closed up again. "None of your business."

She stood up with a sigh, needing to get back to work. She wasn't sure which room to search next. Physically, the next room was the room in which she had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. But she wasn't so sure she was ready to go in there yet.

"Cleaned my kitchen, Granger? Nice. Fancy doing the rest of the house?" he smirked sarcastically, already back to his usual self.

"_No_," she replied. "I'd be here for months."

She'd already walked out of the door when he replied in a murmur.

"Maybe I could do with the company."

Standing outside the closed door to the drawing room, Hermione was trying to summon the courage to open it. She knew she'd have to open it eventually, and waiting a week or so wasn't going to make her ready. Maybe she should just get it out of the way early.

Her hand was outstretched, hovering over the handle like it held a repelling charm. She just couldn't move it.

Mid-way through her internal battle, she heard him come up behind her. He was stood right behind her, probably waiting for her to either move or go in. But he didn't make a sound, and he didn't move a muscle. No snide remarks. She didn't think even he would go so far as to taunt her about that. He hadn't given them away that night, anyway.

It became clear to Hermione that her body didn't want her to open that door. Maybe it remembered everything that had happened here and refused to open the door. Either way, her hand didn't touch that handle.

And then slowly, a pale hand stretched around her body and grasped the handle, twisting it open for her. She muttered a grateful thanks, embarrassed that she was unable to open a door.

It looked much the same as it had when she was last here, except the chandelier was back in the ceiling and none of her blood stained the carpets. Immediately, the scar under her white blouse began to tingle, as if it knew it had been conceived here.

Draco had stepped beside her, looking around the room too as if he hadn't been in it either.

"I haven't been in here since... You know," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want to."

Hermione shivered, trying to shake off the bad feeling the room gave her. "I don't really want to either to be honest."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, and her head whipped around in surprise. He looked away from her awkwardly. "If I could do that spell thing for you, I would."

Hermione was taken aback by his confession. She had to choose her reply carefully; just because he'd said something nice didn't mean he wanted to be having any fluffy heart-to-hearts any time soon.

"Why don't you try it?" she asked.

He had that look on his face again, like he was holding something back. She knew she had to find out what it was before this case was over.

"I can't," he said monotonously. "I don't have a wand. And I can't use anyone else's."

"Oh," was all she said, sure he was lying to her. Well she wasn't going to push it any further, not in here. She close her eyes and began the spell.

It was like being in Grimmauld Place before they cleaned it out; biting objects, burning objects, things that looked completely normal but weren't. There was a fair amount in here, and she knew there would be a lot down in the cellar adjoining this room where Harry and the others had been kept.

The final item in the room was inside a drawer. Hermione could see the flashing but not the object. She very carefully opened it, not wanting to lose an arm like Ernie. Draco's presence hovered behind her.

A short silver knife, identical to the one that Bellatrix had used on her and that had killed Dobby. It wasn't the same one, but she knew they were a pair. She nearly dropped it when she went to pick it up, and she slowly rolled up the sleeve of her blouse to reveal her scar.

In a daydream, trying to forget her nightmares, Hermione moved the knife towards her arm. The flat edge of the blade touched her arm, and she where the scar touched it she felt a burning sensation, as if it were trying to fuse itself to her arm. She gasped in pain, and immediately Draco's pale hand reached around her again and snatched the knife from her.

She watched in horror as he grabbed the blade with his hand and threw it to the ground with such force that it combusted. It wasn't right.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" he snapped.

"Your - your hand..." Hermione stammered, staring at him lost for words. His hand was perfectly fine. No cuts, no blood. He should have been cut right through to the bone with the force that he'd grabbed it.

"Look what you've done to your arm," he said angrily, ignoring her words and grabbing her arm, thrusting it into her face.

Where the blade had touched her scar, the letters had turned a bright, painful red, as if they were about to bleed again. She winced in pain as he dropped her arm. She didn't even know why she had done it; it was like the knife had influenced her mind. She was lucky it hadn't told her to use the sharp edge.

"I don't know what happened," she muttered, confused. "I just felt the need... I don't remember what I was doing..."

"That's because it's cursed, Granger," said Draco, as if she were stupid. He stopped ranting and glared at her, still angry.

"Merlin, how could you have done something so ridiculous?" he growled angrily. "Mudbloods..." he added, muttering.

"Yes, that's what it says, Malfoy," Hermione spat quietly, although she knew perfectly well he hadn't been referencing her arm. He froze, realising what he had said.

Hermione didn't even wait for him to respond before storming past him and straight down into the cellar. On a second thought, she wished she hadn't. It was pitch black, and her heart skipped several beats as she muttered a Lumos.

Brown blood stains covered the floor, chains and shackles hung from the walls. Hermione was very nearly sick as she remembered that Luna, Dean and Ollivander had spent god knows how long down here.

Realising that she wouldn't be able to keep her wand alight while she performed her spells, Hermione shuddered. She didn't want to be alone down here. It was cold, dark and damp, and reminded her of war and torture and fear.

Accepting the inevitable, Hermione pushed herself into the cleanest corner she could find, her back against the wall, and turned out the light. She listened intently for a few seconds, trying to hear for anything that might be coming to get her, but there was nothing. She began her spells.

The cellar was simply huge, and much, much bigger than Hermione had expected. It was all she could do to keep up with the number of red flashes and scribble them down. This was clearly where the Malfoys chose to hide most of their Dark artifacts, knowing the Ministry didn't previously know about the cellar.

Four hours passed before the spell had finished, as the space was so big. Hermione had been on edge the entire time, jumpy as ever and in tears at points. She hated such fear, but experience had worn down her mind.

"Granger?"

A voice called from far away, but she didn't jump this time as it wasn't right behind her.

"You've been gone four hours now. There's a lot of dangerous stuff down there, you know..."

Hermione knew this was his own twisted way of asking her if she was ok.

"I'm fine," she said, the echo of her voice louder than she had expected.

"Put a light on, would you?" Draco's voice said, closer this time.

Hermione whispered a Lumos and her wandlight fell across his legs, stood some way away. She moved it up to his face. He looked something close to concerned as she cowered in the corner.

Standing up quickly, Hermione gave a great shudder as water dripped from the damp ceiling above her onto her shoulder. This place was horrific, and she didn't want to come back down here. The whole day had been awful, and she couldn't wait to get out.

Without a word, she rushed past Draco and through the drawing room out into the entrance hall. She couldn't get away fast enough. The warm light of the setting sun bathed her frozen skin, and she ignored the voice behind her calling her name. As soon as she got past the gates she could Disapparate and go home.

She could barely breathe as she stumbled through them, and somehow managed to get herself home. Collapsing onto the sofa, Hermione curled up under the throw blanket and cried until there was nothing left.

**Sorry it's been a while.. the asshole that used to be my boyfriend decided to break my heart. His loss, I guess.**


End file.
